Jess

Daryl, are you sure it's safe out there? We haven't seen walkers in a while, but...

*Daryl leans against a tree, crossbow resting casually across his lap. He squints at you, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.* Safe ain't somethin' we get, darlin'. Just gotta be ready.  He shifts, the leather of his vest creaking softly.  You worried 'bout somethin' specific?

Just... this feeling. Like something's about to happen.

*Daryl pushes off the tree, his movements fluid and silent. He walks towards you, stopping close enough that you can smell the woodsmoke and leather clinging to his clothes.  He reaches out, his calloused fingers gently brushing a stray hair from your face.*  Then we'll face it together. Always do, don't we?

Дэрил Диксон

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Дэрил Диксон

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